


Tales From The Not-So-Magical Potter (George Weasley x fem!reader)

by nefelibataaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Fred Weasley Dies, George Weasley Needs a Hug, Harry Potter References, Multi, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefelibataaa/pseuds/nefelibataaa
Summary: I suppose if you are reading this, you may be curious about what a Squib has to say about the wizarding world. Or perhaps you are here to read the story of Harry Potter's unfortunate sister. Whatever the reason, your in for a wild ride. Fear not, even though this seems like it, this isn't meant to be a sad story-- nor is it meant to be a happy one. I find that bitter-sweet ones are the best kind, the real ones, for one cannot always be happy.So let us start with my terrible beginning, continue with my happy middle, and end with some bitter goodbyes-- and hope for all to come.xxxxHarry Potter's older sister (Y/n) is a Squib, who learns about the magical world as Harry is invited to attend Hogwarts. She soon becomes involved in his adventures and triumphs. But her life never truly started until she met him-- that red-headed boy at the train station, that boy who she  learns to love so deeply. In this story of family, hope, and love, there is also darkness. Darkness and a fateful prophecy hanging over the Potters heads-- and a uncertain ending to this Squibs tale.Just remember that magic doesn't save all in the end
Kudos: 2





	1. MAGICAL THINGS

|NUMBER FOUR PRIVET DRIVE, JUNE 1991|

"Up! Get up! Now!" The shrill voice of our aunt Petunia called, flicking the light on and off a couple times.

I sat up with a start, knocking my head on the bunk above me. "Ow!" I rubbed my forehead.

Aunt Petunia knocked on the door to our bedroom again, or rather the door to our closet. Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had been so kind as to give Harry and I the cupboard under the stairs to share. We had shelves with thin mattresses as beds.

"Up!" She screeched again.

Before she came yelling like a banshee, I had been having the same dream I had been having for years. The green light. The strange man. The flying motorcycle. I watched my parents die all over again. But that was ridiculous, my parents died in a car accident. That's where Harry and I got the scars.

The scars that looked curiously identical.

Our aunt was back outside the door, after I heard her place a pan on the stove. "Are you two up yet?" She demanded.

"Nearly." I groaned, stretching as best I could. 

"Well, get a move on, I want you two to look after the bacon and set the table. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday." She said.

Harry groaned this time, and I rolled my eyes. Dudley's birthday, how could I have forgotten. Our stupid cousin was spoiled beyond compare.

"I wonder if they got him that racing bike he wanted, not that he exercises or anything. That fat oaf." I whispered to Harry, who sniggered in response.

"What did you say?" Aunt Petunia snapped through the door.

"Nothing." I answered quickly, to try to avoid more yelling. I didn't have the energy to fight that morning. She left, and Harry and I set on getting ready. And I tried to keep all further sarcastic and rude comments inside my head.

It was a cramped space, but Harry and I made due. We had a routine: I help Harry down from his shelf of a bunk, then we take turns in the cupboard getting dressed, reverse that order and it's our routine to get to bed. 

There were spiders in the closet, which I hated, and it was cold and musty but we made it our own. Both our escape from the others, and our prison in this damned house. We were all we had left, Harry was the only thing keeping me sane in this house. He was really my only family left, I didn't count these people we lived with family.

When we were dressed we went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. The spoiled brat.

"You set the table and I'll cook the bacon." I told Harry.

He nodded, rubbing his sleepy eyes beneath his broken glasses. Petunia and Vernon wouldn't buy him new ones, even though it was their son who broke them.

The arse was always picking on Harry, but I was always there with a good punch to save him. Dudley didn't stand a chance against me, even if he was twice my size, he was a bit of a wuss when he was the one getting picked on. Harry didn't always need my help though, he was very fast and could easily outrun our unfit cousin.

I was occupied with the bacon when Uncle Vernon, about twice the size of Dudley, entered the kitchen. "Comb your hair!" He barked at Harry, as a kind morning greeting. 

Harry had the unruliest raven hair known to man. No matter how much he combed it, no matter how many times Vernon and Petunia forced him to get a haircut, it stayed the same-- seemingly growing back overnight. I tried to help him get it under control several times, with no avail.

As much as I could remember, our dad had the same ridiculous hair. In fact, Harry looked exactly like our father, in the bits of him I could remember anyway.

And Harry had her eyes, our mothers eyes. Emerald green and shining. It made me miss my dead parents dearly, even though I barely knew them. It made me long to escape this place even more.

Apparently I looked similar to my mother, according to a comment Aunt Petunia made one day. I had (h/c) hair instead of deep red though, and my father's (e/c) eyes. I also had my father's personality, much to my aunt and uncle's dismay. They hated him for some reason. 

Vernon didn't say anymore to Harry or myself, after I shot him a deathly glare. For some reason, he and Petunia were a little afraid of me, for reasons I would not discover until later.

I was frying eggs with Harry hovering close by with empty plates when Dudley came bounding down the stairs, his eyes filled with greed. Uncle Vernon put down his paper to smile at his brat of a son. And Aunt Petunia went to hug him. Their precious baby.

"Happy birthday Duddykins!" She exclaimed, he wiggled out of her grasp.

He counted his presents, which took him a while considering there were so many and he wasn't quite the brightest. "Thirty-six." He said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy." Aunt Petunia tried to point out, but he wasn't having it. 

"Alright, thirty-seven then." Dudley said, starting to go red in the face. He was going to throw a fit, I swore he threw one every time he didn't get what he wanted. If Harry and I ever tried to pull a stunt like that, we'd be locked in our cupboard for the rest of the day without food.

"Well, what if while we are out today, you can pick two more presents." Aunt Petunia suggested to Dudley. Not that he needed anymore at all. "How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right"

Dudley made a face, trying to calculate how many gifts that would be. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly. "So I'll have thirty... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine." I snapped, dropping his plate of food in front of him.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Aunt Petunia repeated kinder to her son, with a glare sent at me.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel, ready to unwrap his many presents wit the comforting thought that he would soon get more. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

"He's just as greedy as his father, that's all." I muttered under my breath in the kitchen, to which Harry grinned. Harry was a lot more shy than I ever was, and unlike me he didn't tend to make smartass comments in front of our aunt and uncle. 

Well, until my actions rubbed off on him a bit more later.

Dudley was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried. It was an expression that made her face screw up in a rather unattractive way. "Bad news, Vernon." She said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in our direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but I was relived. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and I were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made us look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned, all with a strange look in her eyes, as if she knew something we didn't.

Sure, she was nice enough, but staying here at the house without Petunia, Vernon, or their precious Duddykins would be even better. A break from them all, just for the day.

"Now what?" Aunt Petunia glared at us, as if it was our fault.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested. 

I shuddered at the though. Marge, Vernon's sister, was a vile woman.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them." Petunia crossed her arms, trying to thing of who else they could call. 

The Dursleys often spoke about us like this, as though we weren't even there-- or rather as if we were two unintelligent creatures who couldn't understand what they were saying.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?" Uncle Vernon suggested.

"On vacation in Majorca." Snapped Aunt Petunia, our fault once more of course.

"You could just leave us here." Harry put in hopefully, in a timid voice. 

"Yeah." I crossed my arms, looking at them expectedly. "Harry and I can stay here, and you can have a wonderful day with your little Duddy."

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon, from either the sarcasm that laced my voice or the comment itself. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" She snarled.

"We won't blow up the house." Said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"Careful, I just might." I whispered, eyes ablaze

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo..." Said Aunt Petunia slowly. "... and leave them in the car..."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone." Vernon growled, eyeing us both.

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying-- it had been years since he'd really cried-- but he had mastered the art of the fake cry, his mother would give him anything he wanted when he began to wail.

I tried it once on her, it did not go over well.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" She cried, flinging her arms around him. 

"I... don't... want... them... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoil everything!" He shot us a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

I flipped him off, to which he widened his eyes at, about to tell his mummy but I was saved by Vernon announcing It was time to go.

They hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with us, so we were crammed into the backseat with Dudley. But before we left, Uncle Vernon had taken us aside.

"I'm warning you." He had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas." Weird things were always happening around Harry, unexplained bouts of luck that made his hair grow back or escape Dudley and his friends by suddenly appearing on the school's roof.

Magical things, but only from Harry. Although, there was one time I managed to explode one of Petunia's ugly vases, but that was just pure luck.

"I'm not going to do anything." Said Harry. "Honestly..." I don't think he ever meant to do anything wrong. But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. 

No one ever did-- not even the wizarding world, when he tried to tell you bimbos that the Dark Lord was back.

Vernon turned to me text. "And you, girl. You better keep that smart mouth of yours closed." He snarled, then slapped me across the face. "And that's for giving Dudley the finger."

He stormed off to the car as I held my now red cheek, tears pricking my eyes. He only did that to me if I was being especially vocal, smack my face to shut me up. He never laid a hand on Harry, thank god. Vernon never hit me very hard, never leaving a visible mark, but it was enough to leave a mark in my mind.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with the Dursleys to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, the cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things, it was his favourite thing to do. He complained about people at work, Harry, the council, Me, the bank, Harry and I... The list was endless.

This particular morning, it was motorcycles. "Roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,. He said, as a motorcycle went around us. 

As terrible as the Dursleys were, they were the most normal people ever. I bet there are hundreds of families like them, complaining about motorcycles on the way somewhere. I was glad to be rid of the normality when I finally left them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle." Said Harry then, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."

My eyes went wide. I've been having the same dream for years.

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face distorted. "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley sniggered.

"I know they don't." Said Harry, shrugging. "It was only a dream." A dream that I also had every night, what were the odds of that...

Harry shouldn't have said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon-- they seemed to think we might get dangerous ideas. Like I said, they were far too normal.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families, and the day was going great. We saw most of the animals, and Harry and I even got a small cone of ice cream, which I thought was very generous of the Dursleys. Plus we hadn't even gotten in trouble. 

I should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch we went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, a nice change from the beating sun. Lit windows along the walls showcased all sorts of lizards and snakes, crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. 

Dudley wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. He quickly found the largest snake in the place, of course, but at the moment it didn't look very threatening. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, looking more like a pig than ever, staring at the glistening brown coils of the strangely beautiful creature. 

That was back when I didn't hate snakes.

"Make it move." Dudley whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge. "Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass again with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. 

I didn't blame it, I would have ignored them too.

"This is boring." Dudley groaned, shuffling away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake, I watched from a little bit away wondering what he could possibly be thinking. The snake suddenly opened its dark eyes and very slowly raised its head. When its eyes were level with Harry's, it winked.

I gasped, then shook my head as Harry stared. Snakes can't wink, it must have been my imagination. I occupied myself by checking out the iguana cage a few down, thinking of flying motorcycles and winking snakes and matching dreams. Maybe I was just crazy, Vernon always said my parents were mad, perhaps I was turning so too.

A deafening shout shook me from my thoughts. "MUM, DAD! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!" Dudley came waddling toward the snake tank harry was at, which seemed to having a conversation with my brother.

Dudley pushed Harry out of the way, shoving his face to the glass again. Harry fell hard on the concrete floor, and I rushed to his side to see if he was alright. Harry glared at our cousin.

What came next happened was so fast and unexpected, seemingly magical. One minute Dudley was leaning right up close to the glass, the next, he had leapt back with a howl. The glass on the tank had vanished.

Harry and I gasped, the great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits, not that it had any intentions on hurting them.

As the snake slinked quickly past us a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo." It was taking, to Harry.

I really was going mad.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock, as were Vernon, Petunia and Dudley. The snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg.

Then Dudley came to a realization. "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

He was right though, Harry was talking to it, and the snake talked back. And Harry and I were sent to our cupboard without food that night, for fraternizing with a snake. Not that I was the one who was talking to it, but whatever.

Later that night, when Harry and I were lying in bed in our cupboard under the stairs, my mind wandered.

It thought of all the times that strange things happened to my brother, the talking snake, the vanishing glass, and all the other things. Like the strange people who sometimes just randomly shook Harry's hand on the street-- people in odd robe like clothes. They would shake Harry's hand, and provide me a wary smile, as if Harry was some sort of king and I was merely a peasant.

"Harry?" I murmured into the darkness. "Why do you think these strange things only happen to you?"

"I don't know." He responded, I heard him shifting above me. "Maybe you just have better luck than I do."

"Yeah, maybe." That was a possibility, but somewhere deep inside me I knew that wasn't the truth. And it wasn't, it wasn't even near the truth.

It was because Harry was like my parents, and I was a freak of nature, a rarity, a one in a million chance. It wasn't too often that in a family such as my own that a person like me was born. But here I am, completely and utterly normal. 

After all, if I wasn't normal, I would have already gotten my letter.

I fell asleep that night only to have the same dream over again, but this time I heard more of what the one man with the long beard said. 

"They will be famous. There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know their names, Harry and (Y/n) Potter."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally posted on wattpad under _-_nefelibata_-_, but because of recent events i'm a bit leery about that site. i will still be posting regularly on there, this is just sort of a precautionary back up, and a way to expand my out reach in the fanfiction community. i hope you ejoy this story, and maybe check out some of my other ones!


	2. THE LETTER

|NUMBER FOUR PRIVET DRIVE, JULY 1991|

The escape of the snake earned Harry and I our longest punishment ever, and I was still trying to figure out how the glass even vanished. It was summer vacation by the time our punishment was over, and school was finally out.

I was glad school was over, I hated it. I had been going to Queen Victoria's School for Ladies, a secondary private school for girls. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon thought it would be the best school for me, it was practically a finishing school with a stricter teaching regimen. My aunt and uncle seemed to think that if I was under severe rules of such a place, I would turn out to be an okay woman. Then, perhaps I'd marry someone who would be beneficial to them in some way.

They couldn't care less about Harry, he would amount to nothing in their eyes. But with the proper schooling, maybe I would win over the affections of some heir to a family's fortune, or perhaps the son of a rich entrepreneur. Status was everything to them, and a proper rich boy for their niece that they raised oh so tenderly was a good way to get that-- and a good way to repay the burden I had caused them just by existing.

It's funny looking back on it, when I scored quite the opposite. A trouble maker, with money with no meaning to my aunt and uncle. But I wouldn't have it any other way. My knight with flaming red hair.

Nevertheless, I hated school. The uniforms were scratchy, and all the girls were stuck up snobs. I had no friends, and got into fist fights often. I always won against the other prissy girls though.

Dudley's 'gang' visited the house every single day in the summer. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favourite sport-- Harry Hunting. This was why Harry spent a lot of time hiding from them, and I spent a lot of time beating up Dudley's friends.

When September came Harry would be going off to secondary school too. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings, right by Queen Victoria's. His friends were going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. 

Dudley thought this was very funny, as Stonewall wasn't as revered as Smeltings. "They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall." He told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it--it might be sick." I had never been prouder of my little brother, my smart mouth had finally worn off on him.

I punched Dudley in the face that day, gave him a bloody nose. I wasn't allowed to come out of the cupboard for days.

One morning in July, the Dursleys had just settled down for breakfast. Dudley was parading around in his new school uniform, Petunia was attempting to dye some of Dudley's old clothes grey to match the Stonewall uniforms for Harry, and Vernon was shoveling food into his mouth when we heard the click of the mail slot.

Before anyone could yell at anyone, or demand that Harry or I get the mail, I walked to the door.

Three things were in the mail that day: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and a letter for Harry.

Who would be writing to Harry? We never got mail, why was he just now getting a letter? But sure enough, it was addressed to him. A thick, heavy envelope, made of yellowish parchment with the address in green ink. There was no stamp but a red wax seal bearing a coat of arms--a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H-- sealed it shut

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive Little Whinging, Surrey

"Hurry up!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, tucking the letter under my arm, turning back to the dining room. Little did I know that that letter would be the start of everything.

I handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, letter still tucked under my arm. "Marge's ill." He informed Aunt Petunia, must have been what the post card was about. "Ate a funny whelk."

I joined Harry in the kitchen, who was starting to clean up dishes.

I smiled at him, holding out the mysterious letter. "This came for you in the mail."

"Really? For me?" Harry asked, astonished. I nodded.

"Dad!" Said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!" Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon. 

"That's Harry's!" I said, as Harry tried to snatch it back. 

"Who'd be writing to you?" Sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went green. "P-P-Petunia!" He gasped. 

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but for once his father denied him something. Aunt Petunia took the letter curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. 

I wondered what could possibly be in the letter if that was their reaction.

She clutched her throat and made a choking noise. "Vernon! Oh my goodness-- Vernon!" They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Dudley, and myself were still in the room. 

Dudley wasn't used to being ignored, he threw a fit demanding to see the letter. Harry and I both tried to get it back. In the end all three of us were kicked from the room, and they slammed the door behind us.

We all listened through the key hole.

"Vernon." Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice. "Look at the address, how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

Who's watching the house? I wondered.

"Watching, spying, might be following us." Muttered Uncle Vernon wildly. 

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want --" Petunia began, but Vernon cut her off.

"No." He said. "No, we'll ignore it."

"But--" Petunia was about to protest.

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?" He growled. "I thought we got rid of it when the girl didn't get her letter, now we'll just have to ignore this one."

Petunia agreed and the conversation was over. I was left wondering why they were so scared of a letter, and why they mentioned me not getting one.

That evening when Uncle Vernon got back from work he visited Harry and I in our cupboard. 

"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake." Said Uncle Vernon shortly, though we knew it wasn't. "Your aunt and I have been thinking that this cupboard is getting a bit small for the two of you, we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom." It was a surprisingly kind gesture, for the Dursleys anyway. But I knew it was just to shut Harry up about the letter.

"Why?" said Harry. 

"Don't ask questions!" Snapped our uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now." 

It only took us one trip upstairs to move everything we owned from the cupboard to our new room. It had two single beds spaced out on either side of the room, a wardrobe with some of Dudley's old things in it, a couple of shelves with untouched books, and a desk under the window. It was a hell of a lot nicer than the spider infested cupboard.

When the mail arrived the next morning, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry especially, made Dudley go and get it. "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive--'"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him. Somehow the person who sent it knew that Harry had switched rooms, and that he hadn't gotten the first letter.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day, he stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot. "See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails. "If they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon." She mumbled.

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me." Said Uncle Vernon. These People? What people?.

No less than twelve letters arrived for Harry that week, and since they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced themselves through the windows. Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. The vile man hummed as he did so, rather merrily. I didn't understand what could be so terrible that it drove the man mad.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement, after twenty-four letters had somehow found their way into the house in an egg carton.

I was starting to wonder the same thing.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired, but happy. "Fine day Sunday. In my opinion, best day of the week. Why is that, Dudley?" He asked his son, who was too invested in his breakfast to answer.

"Because there's no post on Sundays?" Harry offered.

"Right you are, Harry! No post on Sundays. Hah!" He sat there contently with his coffee. I set his breakfast in front of him when suddenly something came whizzing out of the fireplace. More letters, everywhere. 

Harry tried to grab one, but Vernon restrained him.

"That's it, we're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!" He looked so dangerous in that moment no one dared argue.

Ten minutes later we had wrenched our way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. We drove, and drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where we were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while, to shake off whoever was following us. Not that anyone was following us.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley murmured to Aunt Petunia, she only gave us a wary look.

A long drive, and a night later, we were all tucked into a miserable shack in what seemed to be the middle of the ocean perched on a rock. It smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms, a bedroom upstairs and a room with a couch downstairs. 

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got the bed upstairs, and Dudley got the couch downstairs leaving Harry and I to huddle on the cold floor.

Obviously Vernon thought nobody stood a chance of reaching us here in a storm to deliver mail, I wasn't quite sure that would be true with these particular magical letters.

As night fell, the storm grew bigger. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on, making the hut colder and colder.

I couldn't sleep, and neither could Harry who was shivering in my arms. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist read 11:50 pm. 

Harry's birthday was in ten minutes, but the Dursley's couldn't care less about that. 

I was wondering about the strange letters as time ticked down, and who could possibly be sending them. 

The clock struck twelve. "Happy birthday Harry!" I whispered to my brother, kissing him on the forehead. 

He wiped of my kiss disgustedly, struggling out of my tight grasp, but thanked me anyway.

There was a boom at the door, making everyone jump up immediately.

BOOM. They knocked again. 

Dudley scrambled up, and Vernon and Petunia stumbled down the stairs.

Vernon, armed with a rifle, shouted to whoever was at the door. "Who's there? I warn you, I'm armed!"

There was a pause, where everyone seemed to hold their breaths, time seemed to stop for a moment, then the door flew right off the hinges-- changing my life forever.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by along, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting kindly under all the hair. The very same man in my dreams, who took Harry and I away from our destroyed home on the flying motorcycle.

I stared at him with wide eyes.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. 

He turned to look at us all. "Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..." He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" Said the giant looking to my brother with a crinkled smile. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise, interrupting the man. "I demand that you leave at once, sir! You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune." Said the giant, he then reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, and bent it into a knot-- as easily if it were made of string. 

The Dursleys backed away as far as they could.

The bearded man turned to me next, his smile still present, but with a gleam of sorrow in his eyes. "An' little (Y/n), yeh've gone and grown up already. I don't suppose you remember me anymore?"

I didn't say anything, my usually active mouth wouldn't spit out any words now.

"Anyway, Harry." He said, turning back to my brother. "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here, yeh can share it with yer sister." He felt around his giant coat, then pulled out a squashed box and handed it to Harry. "I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right." 

It was a birthday cake, the Dursleys had never gotten Harry nor I a birthday cake before. 

Harry looked up at the giant, asking what we were all thinking. "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys an' Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm, then my own.

"What about that tea then, eh?" He said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind." His eyes fell on the empty grate with the Uncle Vernon's attempts to light the fire in it and he snorted. The giant man pointed a pink umbrella at it, and a second later, there was a roaring fire. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light, warming the cold expanse up. He made himself and Harry and I a cup of tea, practically ignoring the Dursley's were even there.

"I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are." Harry said kindly.

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. Yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er -- no," said Harry, I shook my head in agreeance.

Hagrid looked shocked. "Didn't yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" Asked Harry. 

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You an' (Y/n) are famous."

"Sorry, no. I didn't know that." Harry apologized.

"It;s not yer fault Harry." He glared at my aunt and uncle, then addressed my brother with words that would change our world forever. "Harry, yer a wizard."

"I'm a what ?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa. "An' a thumpin' good 'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?"

It all made sense, in a mad, insane, completely psychotic way. My parents were magical, and all those unexplained things that had happened to my brother over the years was all magic too. Either that or I was really losing my mind.

But what about me? Surely, if my parents were such great sorcerers like Hagrid claimed, I must be just like them and my brother. Then again, all the strange things always happened to just Harry.

Harry asked the very question I had been thinking. "What about (Y/n)?"

Hagrid sighed. "Well, sometimes in magical families, a witch or wizard can be born that doesn't quite have the right qualifications for magic." His explanation was kind, but the words still hurt. "It's not their fault of course, but there is nothing that can be done ter change it. That's why yer a wizard, and (Y/n) is what we'd call a Squib."

A name that will follow me to my grave.

Squib-- also known as a wizard-born, is a non-magical person who is born to at least one magical parent. Squibs are, in essence, 'wizard-born Muggles'. They are rare and are looked upon with a degree of disdain by some witches and wizards, particularly pure-bloods.

A one in a million chance, a freak occurrence. I wasn't supposed to exist.

"I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter." Hagrid said to my brother, pulling it too out of his giant coat. I mulled his words over as Harry read his letter finally.

"He's not going." Vernon finally spoke up, snapping me from my thoughts. 

Hagrid grunted, crossing his arms. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him."

"A what?" Asked Harry, I was wondering the same.

"A Muggle." Said Hagrid. "It's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on." Non-magical like me, but not of wizard blood.

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish." Uncle Vernon shouted "Swore we'd stamp it out of him!"

"You knew ?" Harry asked furious, I was a little furious too at the time. "You knew I'm a, a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that school and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was-- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years. "Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as abnormal-- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with the two of you!" 

My heart dropped to my toes. If my parents really didn't die in a car crash, that meant my dream wasn't a dream at all. And now all the pieces started to fit together...

"Blown up?" Harry's voice was a whisper. "You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and (Y/n) Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently. 

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious. "I never expected this. I had no idea, when Dumbledoretold me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh, but someone's gotta. Yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'." He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys. "Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh ,mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's agreat myst'ry, parts of it..."

"I know it, Hagrid." I finally piped up. "I was there."

So I told them everything I remembered from that night, leaving out a few details. Like my last hug from my parents, the gleam of fear beneath their brave gazes, and the way my mother screamed as she was brutally murdered by the man with no nose. 

I aske who that man was, to which Hagrid struggled to respond. But finally he spit out a name that few would dare speak. Voldemort. He then told Harry and I about how he went dark, gathered up followers, and was after us. But we-- mere infants at the time-- destroyed him, or so some people said. Hagrid personally beleved that Voldemort was still lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to take his revenge.

Everyone should have listened to Hagrid from the start, then perhaps Harry wouldn't have had to defeat him fifty times.

People do strange things in fear though.

Uncle Vernon had been quiet a while, but he wasn't going to give in without a fight. "Haven't I told you he's not going?" He hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish. Spell books and wands. We thought we had stamped all the magic out of the two of you when (Y/n) didn't get her letter, but it just so turns out she's normal!"

Normal-- a word that was once longed for by myself, after being teased by other girls at school, had now taken on a new meaning. Normal meant I wasn't special and magical like my brother. That I wasn't like my parents. It meant that I couldn't go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and escape the clutches of my aunt and uncle.

I was just normal, and that hurt. But I was happy for Harry nonetheless, I wasn't going to spoil this for him-- and I know he would have done the same if it was the other way around.

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbledore"

Hagrid seemed proud to talk about this school. I was just upset that my brother would be leaving me for the school year.

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" Yelled Uncle Vernon. But he had finally gone too far. 

Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it above his head. "NEVER INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!" He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley. 

There was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, there was a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his pajamas.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley all screamed and started freaking out. It was truly a sight to behold.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. "Shouldn'ta lost me temper. Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts." He said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'."

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" I asked him, curiously.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" Harry questioned, but it seemed as if Hagrid idn't want to answer that particular question.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow." Said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that." He put out the fire with another swish of his umbrella, getting up and walking to the door. "Come on you two, yes you too (Y/n). I'll be able to get you Harry to Hogwarts, and even you (Y/n) to yer own school."

And so we followed Hagrid, someone who we trusted more that our own aunt and uncle, even though we had just met him moments before. But, after all, he was the kind soul who picked us out of our crumbling home, and held us so lovingly all the way to Little Whinging.

Held us so lovingly when we no longer had parents to do so.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx


	3. DIAGON ALLEY

|THE LEAKY CALDRON, AUGUST 1991|

Hagrid took us to some wizard inn and bar called The Leaky Caldron that night, and Harry and I stayed there in a room for the time being. It was an odd place, but then again I wasn't quite used to magic yet.

Everyone at the bar was excited and intrigued to see us, the Potter siblings. The children who defeated You-Know-Who-- The soon to be great wizard, and the Squib sister.

They were especially interested in our scars.

The next morning, Hagrid came by our room to pick us up. Said he had to take Harry shopping at Diagon Alley, whatever that was, and that there was someone here that needed to talk to me.

Hagrid lead me to another room, then he and Harry said goodbye, and off they went.

I stood there for a moment, wondering who could possibly want to talk to me. I lifted my fist to knock on the door, but before I could the door open right before my very eyes.

"Come in, Miss Potter." A man's voice called. "We have much to discuss."

I suppose you're thinking, why in Merlin's underpants did I go into that room with that unknown man? The answer was simple, I trusted Hagrid who had sent me here, and truth be told-- I had seen so many strange things in this day, I was curious about who lay beyond. Maybe he was some sort of strange creature?

So, I stepped in the room, and quickly found the body to the voice.

It was the other man from my memories, the one with the long white beard. He had kind blue eyes, and half moon glasses perched on his slightly crooked nose. He wore a warm smile, and I knew in second his intentions were true.

"Good morning, Miss Potter." He smiled. "Glad you could join me." He then gestured to one of the chairs by the roaring fireplace, taking the other.

I sat, he offered me some tea which I took with a thank you, then I asked the question I had been dying to say the second I heard his voice.

"Who are you?"

The man's eyes twinkled. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The very Dumbledore Hagrid was defending so protectively the night before, the great wizard Dumbledore.

"The school my brother has been invited to attend." I said plainly, with a hint of bitterness.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, and that's why you're here today. I wanted to talk to you about that."

It still stung that Harry was the one with the gift, that I had seemed to skip out on. It still hurt that he would get to leave into the unknown, when I had to stay back with the Dursley's all year. He was special, I was just normal, and for once in my life I hated that.

"Hagrid must have told you by now, about your situation." Dumbledore said carefully, and kindly. It was hard to be cross with him when he was so nice about it.

I took a sip of my now cooling tea. "He mentioned it briefly, I still don't quite get it." I shrugged, tilting my head. "If our parents were such great sorcerers, why aren't both of us magical?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and stared deep into the glowing amber flames of the fire, he looked to be in deep though as he spoke, as if truly considering my question.

"In 1978, when you were born nearly fourteen years ago, your parents were delight to be blessed with such a healthy baby girl." He says distantly, as if remembering the exact day. "They suspected from the very beginning that you possessed no magical talents, but that didn't mean you weren't very important to the future of our kind."

Dumbledore turned his twinkling eyes to me, and I knew right then he must have been the wisest wizard in existence.

"They came to me when you turned two to ask my opinion on the matter. Though magical children have until about seven before they start showing abilities, I knew the moment I saw you you were no witch." He smiles to ease my hate, then utters words that confuse me even more. "As you fit the description of a prophecy I once heard."

I furrowed my eyebrows, setting down my tea. "A prophecy?"

"In time will come answers, my dear." He patted my arm. "You must wait until you are of age to hear the words of your prophecy. On your seventeenth birthday, the time a witch would come of age, I will tell you everything."

I knew not to question his reasonings, but he was still confusing me greatly. "I am no witch, Dumbledore. I'm just normal." A normal person comes of age a eighteen, and I am merely normal. A normal person doesn't have a mysterious prophecy in their future.

Dumbledore stood, leading me back to the door. "No, indeed you are not, but you are still a half-blood. You have wizard blood in your veins, you merely miss the component of magic. You will still do great things, even if you are just normal."

This was a lot for thirteen-year-old me to handle, at this point the old man was speaking entirely in riddles. 

"Take my arm." He then instructed, and only because I trusted him, I took it.

With a loud crack, we zoomed through what seemed to be time and space, and were suddenly standing in a busy street. I clutched my stomach, the ride had made me feel very queasy. I almost threw up on Dumbledore's shoes.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley." He waved his arm to our surroundings, and I finally took them in with awe.

The street was bustling with dozens of people, of all ages and sizes. Some looked even not so human, but they all appeared to be magical. Some wore strange a draping of robes, some regular clothes, some pointy hats. They all maneuvered around the street, walking in and out of small shops, stopping at roadside vendors, riffling through displays outside. 

The buildings themselves were quaint, with peculiar names like Quality Quidditch Supplies, Florish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions.

Cats weaved around people's legs as they scampered along the cobblestone street, and owls swooped overhead carrying various packages and letters. Much like the owls that tried to bring Harry his letter.

"Wow." I breathed, in complete and utter awe. This place, Diagon Alley, was truly magical.

Dumbledore smiled at my reaction. "Wow indeed. Now, I need you to know that despite everything, your aunt and uncle's house is the safest place for you to stay."

I turned to him, suddenly I wanted to stay in the magical world far more then ever before. "But they are terrible!" I exclaimed rather loudly.

"Their house is the safest place for you to be." He simply repeated. "As long as you are under the roof with your own blood, you shall stay safe. That is why you must return, and Harry must return in the summer."

I sighed, not quite sure what he was protecting us from. Unless he meant that man, the one that came in the night to kill my parents, they one who everyone fears, the one that is supposed to be dead.

"Now." Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "I do believe that is Hagrid I see down the street there, why don't you go join him I'm sure your brother is with him."

He still hadn't given me the answers I wanted, but I waved goodbye and began walking down the street.

"Miss Potter." Dumbledore caught my attention again. "You will get your answers, in all good time."

And he was gone, with a loud crack like before. Like magic.

So with Hagrid's tall frame as my guide, I weaved through the cheery crowd. Hagrid spotted me finally, and called out with a smile.

"Hey there (Y/n)!" He waved with one of his giant hands. "Yer brother is just at Ollivanders righ' now, want to come with me to the next shop?"

As I made it to his side I smiled too. "I'd love too, this place is so cool!" Despite the fact I was still upset about not being magical myself, it was still amazing just to be a part of all the wonder.

I finally noticed Hagrid was carrying something, quite a large covered object.

"What's that?' I asked him, curiously. Was it some sort of magical device? A fearsome beast perhaps? A time machine? Nothing would surprise me at this point.

But Hagrid pulled off the cover to reveal none of my guesses, but a cage with an owl in it. She was quite a large owl, with beautiful snow white feathers and black speckles. She regarded me with large golden eyes that seemed far more intelligent than any animal I had ever met. 

"I bought her for Harry." Hagrid beamed. "As a birthday present."

"Oh, Hagrid, she's gorgeous!" I reached my fingers carefully through the bars and to my surprise and delight, she rubbed against my touch contently. An Owl seemed like a strange pet, but by the amount of them here I assumed it was a common occurrence. "Harry is going to love her."

Besides, he could send me letters with her while he was away.

He was so proud of himself, and with his gruff voice announced. "Since I missed your birthday a while ago, you get to pick out a pet too."

My eyes widened and I smiled, no one had ever bought me anything for my birthday before-- well except for my last birthday when Harry had saved up some change he found in pockets while doing the laundry, then he walked all the way to the closest candy shop and bought me a chocolate bar. I cried when he gave it to me, he even attempted wrapping it with some scraps of paper, tying a bit of ribbon on it in a bow. We shared it in our closet of a bedroom, made it last for weeks, it wasn't often we got something like that.

"Really?" I asked him, clarifying what he truly saud.

Hagrid chuckled. "O' course, you can pick it out at the Magical Menagerie and everything."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The Magical Menagerie was filled with all sorts of creatures, from things I recognized like cats and rats, to some more unfamiliar ones labeled Pigmy Puffs and Nifflers. Whatever those were. Animals lined the walls in cages of all sizes, Meows, hoots and croaks echoed across the store.

I ventured around the establishment, peering at them all. Black rats seemed to be dancing in their xages as I watched them, playing jump rope with their tails as if to impress me. I giggled, and continued on to the toads who croaked out a soulful ballad. A raven watched me with glass like eyes, blinking as I admired it's inky feathers. A large fluffy ginger cat even scurried between my legs, nearly knocking me down. 

The shopkeeper scolded the cat, as if the knocking people over happened a lot. 

There were so many options, but it was the one lone wicker basket off to the corner of the room that caught my attention.

I peered over the edge and was shocked to find only a single kitten sleeping peacefully inside. It was a tiny little thing, all curled up in a ball with it's small tail flicking aimlessly. It was a brilliant orange colour, with a white tummy and what appeared to be little white socks, and twitching pink nose. As I watched it, it let out a big yawn, stretching it's miniature paws. Then it looked at me with it's big brown eyes, almost like it was trying to hypnotize me into bringing it home.

Let me tell you, it worked.

I picked it up, and when I cupped my hands together it could fit in my palms. I smiled at the kitten. "Hello." I cooed. I let out a meow, sticking out it's pink tongue. I giggled at it, and hagrid approached beside me with Harry's owl in tow.

"Is that the one?" He asked.

I nodded with the biggest grin I had given for quite a while.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The two of us and the owl, along with my new kitten went up to the till. The pet shop worker explained that the kitten, who was in fact a boy kitten, was the last of his litter. It made me want to take him home even more. 

I knew Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would hate that I was bringing a cat home, but I didn't care. I loved him already.

Hagrid even let me pick out a collar for him, that would stretch as he grew. I picked out a dark green one with a heart shaped golden tag, that looked lovely with his orange fur and brown eyes. He even came complete with a matching dish and the wicker basket carrier I found him in.

The pet store worker imprinted his new name on the front, then if lost please return to (Y/n) Potter on the back. Then Hagrid-- who found pride in what I named my new kitten-- and myself exited the store to go get Harry from the wand shop. 

All while Rubeus, my kitten, slept soundly in the basket in my arms.

I have Rubeus Hagrid to thank for one of the best gifts I have ever received-- my sweet little kitten, Rubeus. 

xxxxxxxxxxxx


	4. KING'S CROSS

|KING'S CROSS STATION, SEPTEMBER 1991|

It was the first of September finally, the day that Harry was to leave for Hogwarts. I still had a couple more days before my school started, but I would have to go back to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's.

Hagrid lead the two of us from the Leaky Caldron to King's Cross Station in London, somehow Harry had managed to get everything he needed for school-- apparently our parents had left the two of us behind a small fortune of gold, some of which I had with me that day. 

I didn't get wizard money, it had always confused me and still does to this day. Seventeen sickles to a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, 493 Knuts to a Galleon. Come on, you guys need to think of a better system, at least make it even numbers. 

Anyway, we hurried through King's Cross because apparently to catch the Hogwarts Express, you couldn't even be a minute late. 

We were halfway through the station when Hagrid announced that he had to eave early, he needed to be at the school before the train. He bid us goodbye, and me a happy school year. He then scratched Rubeus on the head, who was being held in my arms, then somehow he disappeared seamlessly into the crowd. 

"Alright." I turned to my brother. "Which platform was it you need to be on?"

Harry looked at his ticket, puzzled. "Nine-and-three-quarters."

I chuckled, setting Rubeus down on Harry's cart for a moment. "Harry, there is no such thing as platform nine-and-three-quarters." But sure enough, when took the ticket from his hands, clear as day it was written.

Platform 9¾

"Hagrid has got to be joking." I mumbled.

Before I could even begin to look or think of a logical way out of this predicament, my kitten sprung of the cart and began bounding through the busy station.

"Rubeus!" I called, chasing after him. "Come back!"

Harry was right behind me as we rushed through the busy station, I could see Rubeus just a little bit ahead. But before I could spring out and scoop him off the floor, he jumped onto someone else's cart and I tumbled to the floor.

"(Y/n)!" Harry called, but I was already being helped back onto my feet.

"I'm so sorry." Said the person. "Didn't mean to knock you over there."

I shook my head, my hand clutching the stitch in my side from running. "No, I'm sorry. My cat..." But I trailed off at the honey brown eyes in front of me. 

The boy who helped me looked my age, with flaming orange hair and hundreds of freckles splayed across his face. He had a mischievous but soft twinkle to his eyes, and a warm smile. He was tall and slender, but not in an awkward way. I realized that it was really the first time I took notice of a boy like that before-- well except for the handsome actor in Aunt Petunia's favourite soap.

The boy just grinned as I stared at him, then gestured to the kitten now seated contently on his cart. "I believe this cat is yours."

"Yes." I said quickly. "Sorry about that, Rubeus kind of has a mind of his own." I didn't know then that Rubeus had just lead me directly to the rest of my life, my reason for existence.

The boy scratched Rubeus on the head, to which the kitten leaned into. "I can see that."

I stared at the boy some more, then realized it was probably rude to just stare. So I stuck out my hand, and introduced myself. "(Y/n) Potter." I figured he was trustworthy enough to know at least that.

The boy's eyes widened like saucers. "Blimey! You're (Y/n) Potter!?" He looked to my neck and shoulder area. "Do you have the scar and everything?" 

It took me a minute to realize what was happening, he was one of them. A wizard. But I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't just talking to me because of my fame.

"Yes I do." I pulled the shoulder of my shirt down a bit, though the scar was already poking out the neck of my blouse. 

There it was, my scar. Crackling bolds of lightning extending from the front of my left shoulder, across my collarbone, and up my neck where the smallest of the tendrils reached my jaw. It was quite a substantial scar, and usually I was quite self conscious about it, especially since wizards had been so fascinated in it. But for some reason, this boy made me feel comfortable, almost proud about it. 

"So cool!" The boy said in awe. Then, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in, he offered his hand too. "George Weasley."

I shook his hand, looking into his amber eyes. "Nice to meet you." I could sense Harry bring his cart to a stop beside me, then I remembered the train we were supposed to be catching. "You wouldn't happen to know where platform nine-and-three-quarters is?"

George smiled, a nice friendly smile with a curl of a trouble making smirk at the corners. "Of course, I--." He was about to say something else, but then another cart stopped beside him. 

"Alright, you won this time George." The boy said, they must have been racing in the station. But then I looked at the new arrival, and I had to do a double take. 

This boy looked almost identical to George, but I could sort out the differences easy enough. Where George had soft copper eyes, this boy had sharp blue ones. Instead of an easy smile, his mouth was twisted into a smirk, he also had a little less freckles and his flaming hair styled a different way.

Small details you would miss if you weren't looking, but I was.

"This is Fred, by twin." George introduced, seeing my look of confusion.

"The more handsome one." Fred said, shoving his brother. I giggled at the two of them. "Say, I've never seen you at Hogwarts." He added at the end.

I grimaced slightly. "I'm not exactly a witch." Being nonmagical was still a subject I was touchy about. "But my brother here is a wizard." I added brightly, and the twin boys finally looked at my bother beside me.

Harry's scar was just poking out the bottom of the fringe on his forehead. His looked very similar to mine, but instead it started on the right side of his forehead where tendrils scratched across to his brow. 

"Wow!" Fred gasped. "You're (Y/n) and Harry Potter, you're famous in the wizarding world!"

George smacked his brother. "Catch up idiot, we're already past that point." He then winked at me with a smile.

I blushed as deep as their hair, then grabbed Rubeus off George's cart. "It's Harry's first year you see, we're looking for the platform for the Hogwarts Express." I but Rubeus in his carrier basket, just to make sure he wouldn't run off again to any other cute boy's cart.

"Well, you're in luck." Fred said, punching his brother back. "That's where we're headed."

A group of four more red heads arrived behind the boys, and I connected the dots right away. This must be some of their family.

"Fred, George! Come along you two!" The one woman said exasperatedly. "You'll miss the train for school." This must have been their mother. 

She was a cheery woman, who reminded me of home-- even though my home was nothing like the one she must share with her children. She had the same orange hair as the rest of them, and eyes the same colour as George's. She held the hand of a girl who must have been around ten, again with the same hair and eyes. 

There were two boys with her too, one who looked even older then me and the twins, and one who looked about Harry's age. These two boys had the same flaming hair again, but blue eyes like Fred instead. the elder looked a little stuck up at first glance, where the younger just looked a little frightened.

The woman, who I was assuming was all of the red heads' mother smiled when she spotted me and Harry. "Are you both here to catch the train too, dear?" She asked me brightly.

I immediately wished my mother was here with me too, perhaps even both of my parents here to help me send Harry off to Hogwarts. 

"Yes, ma'am." I replied, then shrugged sheepishly. "But we can't seem to find it you see."

Her smile only grew. "Well then follow us, we'll show you to it."

Soon enough, Harry and I and the Weasley's were standing in front of a brick wall. I was confused at first, but then Mrs. Weasley directed her eldest son.

"You first, Percy." And he gave a running start, then he and his cart disappeared through the wall. 

My eyes went wide, and Mrs. Weasley noticed. "Is this your first time hat Hogwarts, dear. I would have assumed you'd be in third year like Fred and George." 

"Well, you see I would be, but only my brother is magical." It was almost embarrassing to say, as if I had some sort of disease. 

But Mrs. Weasley didn't make me feel bad about it, she just smiled in understanding. She realized who I was, and my predicament. "Well then, Ginny and I can see you out."

Ginny must have been the little girl she clutched the hand of. The girl peaked at me shyly from behind her curtain of orange hair, and waved timidly at me.

Mrs. Weasley then turned to her twin boys, who looked as if they were silently conspiring a plan. "Fred, you next." She said to Fred.

Fred huffed. "I'm not Fred, I'm George. Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George." The two boys crossed their arms. He was definitely not George, I could tell them apart like night and day. 

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Sorry George, dear."

Lining his cart up with the wall, Fred smirked. "Only joking, I am Fred." And off he went through the wall. 

George slid his cart beside me for a moment as Mrs. Weasley fussed over her youngest son. He regarded me with his amber eyes a moment, before smiling. "Could I write to you?" He asked.

No one had ever written to me before, quite honestly I had no friends. But the way George smiled at me, I knew even though I met him just that day that a spark of friendship was already forming. 

My face grew warm at his question, and I nodded quickly. "Yes, I'd love that." And I could have sworn George blushed too. 

It was the truth, it would be nice to have some friends even if they were far away at a boarding school. So I gave him my address, right down to which room I resided in-- I always found it weird that wizards needed that tiny bit of information. 

George grinned. "I will see you again, (Y/n) Potter." Then he was gone through the wall too, and I was already anxiously awaiting the arrival of my first letter.

I turned to Harry, to wish him farewell, and he was already looking at me suspiciously. "What was that about?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

I shoved him, but then pulled him into a tight hug. "Take care, Harry, have lets of fun at Hogwarts."

Harry hugged me back just as tightly. "Sorry about leaving you with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley. I wish you could come with me."

I pulled away from him and smiled. "I'll be just fine, you know I can always hold my ground." Then I kissed him on the top of his messy raven hair. "Remember. Don't let anyone push you around, don't get killed, and have lots of fun at Hogwarts."

Harry gripped the handle of his cart, nodded, then with a determined look in his emerald eyes-- he ran at and through the wall to all his adventures ahead, behind the boy who would soon be one of his very best friends. 

"You coming through too, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked me, about to head through with Ginny.

I shook my head, giving her a bright smile. "No, I better be heading home." And with a goodbye to the two, I took off to the entrance of King's Cross. 

I had no idea that day that that one family of gingers would mean so very much to me in the years to come, and I had no idea that that amber eyed boy would turn out to be. 

But I did know that I wasn't heading home, not really. My home was my brother, and he would go on to have amazing adventures while I sat in the house on Privet Drive waiting. My home would also come to be that boy, that mischievous but kind boy I met at the train station.

And so with Rubeus in his basket, which I clutched tightly in my arms, I emerged from the doors of the station into the sunlight, with absolutely no idea how to get home. 

xxxxxxxxxxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so i like the fan art where harry's scar isn't just this tiny cute emoji bolt, but a full on realistic lightning bolt. it looks cooler, and more like a spell to me, so that's how i want the scars to appear in this book. if you haven't seen it done like that, look up some Harry Potter fan art. i swear, it's actually kind of beautiful, you will not be dissapointed.


	5. THE KNIGHT BUS

|ALL OVER THE UNITED KINGDOM, SEPTEMBER 1991|

I dodged people on side walks, who seemed to be in a hurry. Ran past cars in the street, who nearly ran me over. Walked down the busy roads of London, with strangers who didn't even spare me a second glance.

It was a nice sunny day, but I didn't pay attention much to the weather. I was worried about one thing and one thing only-- getting home.

I had no way to pay for a taxi, the only cash I had was the gold, silver, and bronze coins of the wizarding world. I couldn't even use a payphone to call my aunt or uncle, I had no normal change.

I should have clarified with Hagrid how to get home, I should have stayed back with Mrs. Weasely and asked her how I could go about doing so. It was stupid of me not to think about these things, but you see I'm a bit forgetful and distracted easily.

In the last little while I had an abundance of distractions.

The street's population seemed to thin out eventually, along with the number of cars zipping past on the street. It was eerily quiet for a busy city like London, but I payed it no mind at the time.

I had gotten turned around in the unfamiliar city, now I was lost and had no way home. And with Harry gone at his new special school, I didn't even have him to confide in. 

I had never felt so lonely.

I sighed, sitting on the curb of the street. "What are we going to Rubeus?" I lifted the lid of his basket to peer at my kitten, the only other living thing in the world it seemed. 

He meowed at me softly, nuzzling his nose with my own. I just closed my eyes and pulled his basket closer to my chest.

Then there was a noise, a deep rumbling noise. At first I though it was just Rubeus' purrs, but then it shook the curb beneath me, shook me where I sat. I opened my eyes, and for a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. Right in front of my very eyes appeared a purple double decker bus, as if out of thin air-- like magic.

The doors to it open as I stood in awe, rubbing my eyes to see if it was real. This was no trick of the light. A young man stepped out of the bus, he couldn't have been older than eighteen. He wore some sort of conductor uniform, and pulled out a small scroll with some sort of script it seemed. 

"Welcome to the Knight Bus." He announced. "Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening."

The Knight Bus? I stared up at the towering violet vehicle. 

Emergency transport for witches and wizards? 

"But, I'm not a witch." I said aloud, much to Stan's confusion.

He shrugged. "Well the bus only can be summoned if someone of magical blood needs assistance, and Muggles can't see it." He eyed me skeptically, as if I was on drugs of some sort. 

He was the one riding on a giant magical bus.

"So what'll it be?" He asked after I only stared a moment longer. "Eleven sickles a ticket and we can take you anywhere you need. Thirteen sickles if you would like a hot chocolate for your ride, and fifteen sickles for a hot water bottle and a toothbrush in the colour of your choice."

I shook my head. Sickles? Weren't those the silver coins I had? I briefly remembered Hagrid going over what they were called.

This was my chance to get home, my only chance it seemed. 

I pulled out the pouch of coins, counting out eleven silver coins. It turned out I had a lot more then needed, so I counted out two more for the hot chocolate. I could use it.

I handed them over to the conductor, who counted them out too, just to be sure. Satisfied that I had given him the right amount, he stepped aside with a wave of his hand. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, young miss."

The Knight Bus was even stranger on the inside, instead of a normal bus with rows of bolted down benches, it had an endless amount of beds and cushy arm chairs. I looked up to where a giant chandelier hung, casting the inside in a soft light. I could see about a dozen passengers on this level alone, but it looked as if the bus went up ant lest another two levels.

"I recommend you take a seat." Said Stan. "The ride gets a bit bumpy."

I held Rubeus' basket closer to me, choosing a crimson arm chair near the front of the bus. 

Stan watched me again, with his beady eyes. "Who did you say you were again?"

I was suddenley aware of my scar that showed over the top of my jumper. I pulled it up further, and made up a name on the spot. "Lily Dursley." I didn't want the attention at the moment, and Stan made me feel a bit uncomfortable. 

"Alright." He leaned against the wall that partially divided the driver with the rest of the bus. "Where to then, Lily?"

"Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." I said, not missing a beat. That address had been the only one I had ever known. 

Stand repeated what I said to the driver, then asked me if it was in England. I nodded, a bit confused. Where else would I mean? This bus couldn't possibly go much further.

I was soon mistaken as with a deep rumble, the Knight Bust started up again and flew down the streets of London. I nearly fell out of my seat, almost dropped the basket I held. The chair I sat in skidded across the bus floor, knocking into a bed with a sleeping witch. 

Stan Shunpike grinned only a little bit in front of me. "Isn't this fun?" He asked.

I was trying not to get sick. 

We seemed to be out of London now, shooting past country side I didn't even recognize. Then the bus came to an abrupt stop, I tumbled to the floor.

"Hogsmeade, Scotland!" Stan called over a PA system. "Next stop, Wizard's Glen, Whales."

My eyes widened. Of course, this was a magical bus that could travel anywhere in a flash. But how had we gotten from London to Scotland so fast?

The bus started up again after two wizards exited. They had barley gotten a step away when we were off again, zipping down streets and hills. 

"Oh yes, your hot chocolate." San remembered, then poured me one from a kettle that hung on a front cupboard.

He passed me a mug, and I was able to take one sip before I fell out of my chair again. I spilt the hot chocolate all over the front of my shirt. Rubeus growled in his basket, he wasn't appreciating being knocked round so much-- and neither was I.

You would think, for being wizards, that they would have technology far more advanced then us non-magic folk. But no, they had a crappy bus that knocked you out of your seat every time it started. 

"You should hold o tight next time." Stan recommended. "Like I said before, it gets pretty bumpy."

I wished I had spilt my hot chocolate on him.

The Knight Bus zoomed across the entirety of the United Kingdom, stopping in places I didn't even know existed. I had been to more places that day then I had ever been in my entire life, some were wizard towns, others were muggle cities I recognized. Edinburgh, Hogsmeade, Cardiff, Godric's Hollow, Liverpool, Ottery St Catchpole, Belfast, Holyhead. 

I hoped perhaps someday I'd be able to travel back to those places to truly see them.

I got the hang of the ride eventually, and by the third stop before my own, was able to sit without being thrown off my chair.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to dip to the horizon, the bus stopped in front of my aunt and uncle's place.

"Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Stan said, opening the door with a wave of his wand.

I stood and started for the exit, before turning back to him. "Thank you." I would have probably still been stuck in London if it weren't for the magical vehicle.

Stan crossed his arms, leaning against the divider wall again. "The Knight Bus will always be available for wizards and witches in need." 

I stepped out onto the sidewalk, turned around one last time, and the Knight Bus disappeared down the street-- into the night. 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

I opened the door of Privet Drive, it was surprisingly unlocked. 

I walked down the hall to the stairs, still soaked in hot chocolate and Rubeus in his basket. And there they were, all sitting in the living room, watching the evening news program.

"Where the hell have you been!?" Vernon roared. "You disappear with your brother and some magical giant for a month, and just expect us to let you back in our home!" His face was turning red in anger, but I had no energy to fight tonight.

Aunt Petunia placed a hand on her husband's shoulder to calm him a bit, then eyed me with a look so unfamiliar. I must have looked pathetic standing there, my jumper soaked, tears in my eyes, clutching a basket like my life depended on it-- because Petunia looked at me in pity.

My only confidant in the world was gone, far away at some special school for the year, and it seemed my only ally now was my aunt, who generally didn't like me much.

"Why don't you go up to bed." She said softly, and I did.

It was strange without Harry's deep breaths on the other side of the room. But I eventually floated off to dreamland, with visions of wizards, magic, a zooming Knight Bus, and a certain red haired boy.

xxxxxxxxxxxx


	6. A YEAR ALONE

NUMBER FOUR PRIVET DRIVE, 1991 TO 1992

The following year without Harry was hard. He had been my only source of joy within that house on Privet Drive, I hardly knew what to do without him. 

Though now that he was gone, things had calmed down a bit. No strange things happened now that the family's only wizard was gone, and Uncle Vernon had calmed down a bit. Sure he still hated me with a passion, but now he wasn't always so angry.

He also didn't really like that I had brought a cat into their house, but they accepted it as long as I promised to take care of it myself. 

We fell into a routine without Harry. A very mundane boring routine, by the way, but one all the same. 

Aunt Petunia would wake Dudley and I up in the morning, and there was always breakfast waiting for us on the table. Then we would catch the bus up the street, the same bus, that would take us to our respective schools. I was still going to Queen Victoria's, where I had no friends. Then we would come home on the same bus at the end of the day, and usually I would make dinner, I quite enjoyed cooking anyway. 

Some nights Uncle Vernon would yell at me when he came home, if I did terrible on a test, and I would be sent to bed early. Most nights I went up to my room right after dinner anyway, not wanting to socialize with the people I was forces to live with. 

Our room felt empty without Harry in it, though we hadn't lived in it long before he went away to school. Some nights when I was really missing him, I would sneak down to stay in thy cupboard under the stairs. Aunt petunia would search for me frantically in the morning, only to find me sound asleep in my old dwellings.

That was one thing that came out of Harry leaving-- Aunt Petunia was much kinder to me.

When Christmas came around, and I was missing Harry more then ever since he decided to stay at school for winter break, Aunt Petunia was there.

She and I made Christmas cookies together, and while Vernon was gone at work one day and Dudley was out playing with his friends, she even talked about some of the memories she shared with her sister.

I had never heard her talk about my mother before, in such a reminiscent way. She told me about how she and Lily used to make Christmas cookies when they were little girls too, but she shut up about it as soon as her husband came back home. 

Vernon became the only person in that house I hated.

Aunt Petunia even got me a Christmas gift that year, granted it was only some clothes, but they were new and my very own. Not some stupid hand-me-downs, my very own clothes that fit perfectly and looked just fine.

I saw less and less of my bitter aunt, and more of an aunt I was happy to have. I made her a Christmas card, a drawing of a winter scene, I was rather good at drawing. I didn't have Muggle money to get her a gift, so the card would have to suffice. Apparently it did-- that card stayed on the fridge for the rest of the years I stayed in that house.

She even fell in love with Rubeus, who liked to sit with her while she watched her Soaps and drank her afternoon tea. 

Hell, even Dudley was nicer to me now that Harry was gone. A few times during winter break, he asked if I wanted to be on his team for a snowball fight against a couple of his friends. 

We won, of course.

I still felt alone though, despite feeling closer to some people then ever. Harry wrote to me often, which made tings a little better. He sent me many pictures of him and his friends, pictures that moved much to my delight. Harry told me all about his adventures at Hogwarts in them, and about the invisibility cloak he was gifted that used to be our fathers.

I too had gotten a mysterious package at Christmas, within was a photo album. It didn't say who it was from, but inside were pictures of my parents. A few were at their wedding, one was of them dancing in front of a fountain, another was of them when they must have just started dating. Some included their friends, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, people I distantly remembered. My favourite was one with baby me in it, my dad held me in it laughing as I squirmed in his arms, my mother kissed my cheek with a smile.

I carry that picture with me everywhere.

It made me happy to see that Harry was having fun, but I still was saddened by the fact I wasn't special like him. I felt as if somehow I had disappointed my parents, though both Dumbledore and Hagrid had assured me I hadn't. 

Hedwig, Harry's owl, came every week with a new letter from my brother. It seemed that he and his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, got into a lot of trouble at that school. Enough to practically write an entire essay every week. He was especially excited to tell me he was the youngest Quidditch Seeker in a century, he used an entire roll of parchment to explain to me what and how to play the sport, and every single rule. 

His friends seemed wonderful, I was happy he had made them. I was his only friend for a while, it's a bit sad when your older sister is your only friend. It's even sadder when your younger brother is your only friend.

On the first day of spring, March 20, my fourteenth birthday, I received not one but two letters from Hedwig. She sat on my bed frame as I opened them eagerly, watching me with golden eyes as Rubeus sat beneath her, poised to pounce on the poor bird.

I shooed him away as I opened the first letter, it was from Harry, as expected. He wished me a very happy birthday, and sent best wishes from he and his friends. In the package was a book called Hogwarts: A History and something called a chocolate frog, he thought I would enjoy them both.

I did. 

I read the book about a hundred times, and the chocolate frog made me giggle as it hopped out of it's package. I caught it right before it could jump out he window, in the package was a Dumbledore card. He was there and gone in a blink of an eye.

I wrote a quick reply to Harry, then turned to the second letter that was addressed to me in an unfamiliar handwriting. 

I tore it open and read the letter carefully, soon realizing who it was from. 

(Y/n) Potter,

I've never written a letter to someone famous before, so bare with my messy hand writing, and my useless ramblings. 

I was going to write sooner, but I got caught up in my school work. Trust me, Muggle schools can't have half as much work as Hogwarts. You are lucky you don't go here. I bet the teachers aren't as strict either. You should be happy you don't have to sit through History of magic, it is the most boring subject ever. 

Your brother has caused quite a ruckus at school this year, it used to be just Fred and I getting into the most trouble. Harry is giving us a run for our money. But without him, we wouldn't be on track to winning the Quidditch and House cup.

How are you? We haven't talked since the train station. You disappeared quickly, I was wondering how you got home? How was your Christmas and New Year? How have you been? 

I barely know you, but I would like to know more. I'll write to you until it annoys you if that's what it takes.

Sincerely,  
George Weasley

P.S. I hear it's your birthday, mine is soon too. Happy birthday! :)

P.P.S. Hopefully your cat hasn't run away again, I won't be there to catch him this time.

I smiled at the letter that made my young heart flutter, then turned to Hedwig and Rubeus.

"He wrote to me!" I exclaimed to them. "He wrote to me!"

Hedwig didn't look very impressed, but Rubeus hopped up on my desk as I was writing a letter back, smudging the not yet dried ink with his little paws.

George Weasley,

I was quite excited to read your letter, you see I don't get letters from people often (Harry doesn't count).

I assure you, Muggle school has just as much work. I bet it's even more boring too, at least you don't have Math. My teachers are mean too, and don't seem to like me much. I have a bit of a mouth on me.

I bet I could give you and Fed a run for your money too. I've gotten detention at least three times this week alone for getting into fights with other girls. I assure you though, I won every one.

I'm doing quite alright myself, besides the homework and detention. It's calmed down a bit here now that Harry is gone away.

I took the Knight Bus home from the station, that was an experience I'll never forget. Apparently you can take it as long as you have wizard blood in you. You magical folk are quite odd, how come you can do magic but still don't have fancy technology. I mean, you write with a quill! Come on, it must be annoying.

My Christmas was just fine, same with my new year. Nothing special, but I got some new clothes.

I would like to know you too, and would not be bothered in the slightest if you kept sending me letters. In fact, I will look forward to them.

Truly,  
(Y/n) Potter

P.S. Thank you for the birthday wishes, happy early birthday to you and Fred as well!

P.P.S. So far Rubeus hasn't run away again, but he is plotting to eat Harry's owl even though she's five times bigger than him. I'm trying to tell him Hedwig could swallow him whole, he doesn't seem to like to listen though.

P.P.P.S. Don't mind the smudged ink, Rubeus jumped on the letter while I was writing it.

I sealed both letters, then gave them to Hedwig, who I learned was more intelligent then the ordinary owl.

Then I watched her soar out my window, the letters clutched in her class. I watched her until she disappeared over the horizon, into the setting sun of the West.

I found another package at my room door that night, it didn't say who it was from but I knew.

There was a cupcake in one box, a chocolate one with red frosting. And another, even smaller box atop it with an envelope attached.

I opened the envelope next, inside was quite a short letter.

(Y/n),

This belonged to your mother, she wore it often when we were younger. One of the only things she brought from home with her to Hogwarts.

I understand what it's like you know, the feelings you must feel. I felt them too, when my younger sister went off to a special school, and I had to stay home. I felt like I let my parents down, not being magical.

I grew bitter about it, please don't make the same mistakes I did.

Inside the tiny box was a silver necklace, a delicate chain with a small lily pendant. I knew who it was from before, but now I knew for sure.

I had seen my aunt with the exact same necklace, with a petunia pendant instead. She really did care for her sister, and she really did care for me.

I wasn't all alone after all, I had Harry, George, and now Aunt Petunia too.

xxxxxxxxxx


End file.
